— 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗙𝗜𝗙𝗧𝗬-𝗙𝗢𝗨𝗥
( 𝘋𝘌𝘊𝘐𝘚𝘐𝘝𝘌. )
DARYL SHIVERED AGAINST the cold cement of the Sanctuary's closet floor. His hands, still caked with blood, felt around the empty space for anything to touch. His skin, once graced so gently with love and affection, was coarse and pale. He was blinded by darkness, save for the single sliver of light that emanated from beneath the door. He could see the footsteps of unbothered men and women passing by who relished his pain. The blaring music echoed between his ears and took place of all rational thought. His fingers pressed against the bandage on his shoulder, eliciting a hiss of pain from his cracked lips. He missed her so much.
Daryl always thought he'd go to hell, but this was worse.
He couldn't sleep. The tunes blared from that godforsaken box and didn't stop. Dwight had come twice a day with bread and canned dog food, which Daryl had no choice but to scarf down like it was all he could get his hands on... because it was. His limbs shook uncontrollably, but he didn't know why. He was in a constant state of burning up, yet his blood felt like ice. He could feel himself wasting away. But worst of all, the overwhelming sense of guilt permeated every fiber of his being. The low thumps of Negan's bat plagued what nightmares he managed to experience.
Daryl gripped his oily locks and tugged on them in frustration. His eyes screwed shut in the darkness, and gentle sobs wracked his body. Everything hurt, from his heart to his shoulder. Part of him just wanted to give up, then and there. What was there to go back to? The searing gaze of blame from Maggie? The pitied words of Murph? Oh, how he missed her nonetheless. He missed her eyes. He missed her touch. He missed her voice. His promise to come back felt so far from true. Was she mourning his death? Was she even alive?
The closet door slammed open with a clang over the repetitive music. Daryl jumped in shock and squinted at the silhouette in the bright light. Dwight stood over him and dropped a piece of meat-slathered bread on the filthy ground before him. Daryl sat still for a moment, debating whether or not he should ashamedly eat the "food" once more. He kept his eyes locked on the ground before he finally decided to nourish himself with what he could. Dwight stared at him for a moment, savoring the sense of power that Negan must have felt every time people knelt for him, before tossing a set of clothes to the shivering man. Daryl grunted as the cloth fell atop of him, peering at the foreign things before the room was enveloped with darkness once more.
Once a good half an hour passed and Daryl had put the sweatshirt and pants on, Dwight opened the closet door and took a handful of the shirt near Daryl's shoulder. His skin seared with pain, but he held his composure as the scarred man led him down the halls. Once Daryl's eyes acclimated to the light, he realized that he had been marked with a large orange 'A' across his chest and torso. He wondered what it meant, but didn't say a word. They stepped through the winding halls, lined with tile and cold tones... only further emphasizing the disdainful people who graced this complex.
Finally, they reached a door at the end of one long corridor. Dwight pushed it open and revealed the doctor's office.
"Carson," he made them known.
In the room sat Dwight's wife, Sherry. She and the doctor peered curiously at the two men and shuffled in slight nervousness.
Doctor Carson pushed his hands into his coat pockets and muttered, "We were just finishing up."
Sherry stood up from the examining table and smoothed down her skirt, "Hi, D."
"Hey," he replied, shortly.
Sherry's eyes lingered across his scarred face before traveling to the man he held in his grasp. When she caught sight of Daryl, her brows furrowed. Memories flashed back to that fateful day in the forest when she lost her dear sister and freedom once again.
"Daryl, right?" her soft voice questioned.
"Don't... talk to him," Dwight interrupted sternly.
He shoved Daryl forward. Daryl stumbled before catching himself on the doctor's bench. He sat atop the table and let his eyes glance across the room. Murphy's laugh suddenly echoed in his mind, making his head snap up from its weakly held position. He remembered her office in Alexandria... the way she always insisted on having fresh flowers every other day as a way to comfort her patients. She went on runs to old drug stores just to find posters that made the infirmary more homey. She sewed her own curtains. In this room, he only saw stone floors and grey walls. This was a prison.
Sherry stepped closer to Daryl, "Whatever they say... just do it—"
"I said don't talk to him."
Dwight and Sherry shared a steely look.
Doctor Carson walked behind Daryl and muttered, "Okay, let's take a look."
Daryl felt his cold hands on his back, and while he would have normally protested eyes on his damaged skin, he didn't have the energy. Doctor Carson peeled back the bandages and prodded the tender skin.
"It'll get better," Carson announced. "If you let it. Whoever patched you up did a good job, but Negan will take care of you... trust me."
___
Murphy pulled back the lace curtains of Barrington House in time to catch the Saviors driving out of Hilltop's gates. Maggie, Sasha, and Jesus stood behind her. Gregory had fled the room moments after their altercation, and there was a new dynamic in the community's government. Things were starting to change.
"When I got here, Gregory was already in charge," Jesus muttered reproachfully. "I thought the people chose him for a reason. Looking at it now, I think it just happened."
"Your people were scared," Murphy whispered, still peering out the window as the gates were locked shut. "We listen to anyone who keeps order when we're scared."
Jesus nodded in agreement, "I didn't like how he did things. But I couldn't imagine anyone else in his place. I can now."
"Who?" Maggie asked.
The corners of Murphy's mouth hiked upward, and she shared a knowing look with Jesus and Sasha. Jesus smiled at the ground, but replied nonetheless.
"We'll talk about it sometime. I should've talked to Gregory sooner. I'm sorry. Hopefully... you'll let me make it up to you."
"We will," Maggie pressed her lips together in a tight, but genuine, smile. She looked out of the window and shared a quick look with Murphy. "The gates are closed."
Jesus moved forward in warning, "They're still loading up outside..."
Maggie hesitated for a moment, but spoke to Murphy and Sasha, "I'll see you back at the trailer."
"I'll come with you," Murphy spoke up, setting a gentle hand on her friend's shoulder.
Maggie nodded and reached into her pocket... her fingers brushing against the cool metal of her family's dear watch. The two women exited the room, leaving Sasha and Jesus behind to their own discussion. Maggie led Murphy out of the mansion and rested on the porch for a moment... pulling out the gold pocket watch.
"I... I need to visit Glenn," she breathed, running the pad of her thumb across the glass above the ticking hands. "One more time."
Murphy's brows tilted upward and she drew her hand across Maggie's upper back, "Of course. Let's go."
They made their way down the creaking steps and walked around the large brick building constructed in the middle of the Hilltop. The community was bustling with action all around them. Deep within the carefully grown gardens, the graves of Glenn and Abraham were buried in the dirt. As the two reached the quiet area, something caught Murphy's eye. Green balloons were tied to one of the the markers and Enid's crouched figure rested just before the stones. She sat there— pondering and reflective— not realizing that Maggie and Murphy had just arrived.
"You're here," Maggie spoke up, affection in her voice.
Enid's head shot toward the two women at the news of their presence, and her expression morphed into one of both sympathy and gladness. She stood from the ground and rushed over to the pair, grabbing both of Maggie's hands in her own.
"Are you okay?" she asked... already knowing the answer.
"I'm not," Maggie replied.
Enid turned to Murphy, "Murphy?"
Murphy's eyes flitted up from the ground to lock with Enid's. Her gaze showed thankfulness at the question, but she shook her head 'no.' She wasn't okay either.
Maggie released Enid's hands and walked toward her husband's grave. She pressed the watch against her chest and set an open palm across her stomach. Murphy could see her tense shoulders relax as a newfound sense of peace washed over Maggie's broken frame. She turned back around to Enid and Murphy with a soft smile but pained eyes.
"But I will be."
Enid smiled. Murphy tried to. Maggie stepped forward and took the two of them in her arms, and the trio shared a warm embrace between the graves. Murphy buried her face into Maggie's shoulder and pulled Enid against her side. She felt tears burn in her eyes, but an even greater flaring in her chest. They had experienced more pain in these last days than most people would in their lifetime. There was always hope to rebuild, and leave this world a better place than they found it. But the question was... what else could they lose along the way?
"We're gonna be okay," Murphy whispered.
Both Maggie and Enid heard her.
The three made their way back to the trailer soon after, and Murphy helped Enid fry some grilled cheese (which Maggie had been craving all day.) Maggie sat at the table, the gold reflection of the pocket watch still gleaming in her eyes as she continued to observe it. Murphy walked a plate of sandwiches over and set them on the dining table, followed by some tomato soup made of fresh produce from Hilltop's gardens. Once they all sat down at the table, Enid couldn't keep one thought to herself.
"People told me you killed walkers and a car... with a tractor?"
"I couldn't sit by and watch," Maggie replied.
"Eh... you really could have," Murphy teased, pushing the plate of grilled cheese over to the two. "I think we had it under control."
"Did you now?" Maggie smiled.
Murphy placed a sandwich on her plate and pretended not to hear her, looking everywhere else in the room with a semblance of a smile across her face.
"You're supposed to be taking it easy..." Enid kindly reminded her.
"It wasn't hard," Maggie insisted. "It wasn't the first time..."
Murphy looked up from her soup with furrowed brows, as did Enid. Maggie stared at the two and smiled to herself. Murphy dropped her utensils and folded her hands beneath her chin, urging Maggie to continue with a gaze alone.
"There was this boy in high school..." Maggie trailed.
Enid's eyes widened, "... You ran over the boy?"
"His car," Maggie nodded. "It was a Camaro, and then it wasn't."
The three shared a light-hearted moment... the weight on their shoulders seemingly dissipated, and they almost forgot about the horrors just beyond the walls.
Murphy chuckled to herself and fiddled with the spoon in her bowl, "You have me beat. When my boyfriend cheated on me in high school, I only keyed his car."
Laughter filled the tiny trailer. But as happy as this moment was, Murphy couldn't help but think about the many dinners they'd had in Alexandria— the neighborhood cookouts and the family meals. When Glenn and Maggie found out that they were expecting a baby, the most wonderful celebration took place near the lake. It was sunny, and warm, and light. There was nothing to worry about... no sign of danger in the near future. Every time Murphy felt like they were in the clear, something like this happened. There would be no family dinners... not for a long time. She couldn't see things ever being the same again.
The door to the trailer soon opened, and Sasha stepped in with an indecipherable look upon her face. When she caught sight of Enid sitting at the table, her eyes widened and a smile crossed her lips.
"Enid!" she exclaimed in surprise.
"Hi! I- I came to help," Enid replied with a grin.
"You came by yourself?"
"... Yeah," Enid hesitated, and Murphy took a mental note to ask her about Carl later. "Have some dinner."
Sasha nodded and pulled out the empty chair at the table, muttering, "Why are there balloons on Abraham's grave?"
As she scooted closer to the table, Maggie shared a sheepish look with Enid, "I didn't have the heart to tell you. Glenn would've. He was a bad liar."
Murphy bore a sad smile on her face at the thought. He was a pretty bad liar.
"Sorry," Enid apologized to Sasha.
"There's no need to be sorry," Sasha assured. "Nothing wrong with balloons!"
"There's nothing marking the graves," Enid noted.
Maggie shook her head and fiddled with the pocket watch, "Nope. I was gonna use this for Glenn's. It was my dad's. He gave it to him. But I'm giving it to you."
Enid looked up at Maggie in shock as she placed the watch in her hands. Her fingers closed around the cherished object and Maggie spoke to the group.
"We don't need anything to remember him by. We have us."
The four women shared one last look before locking hands around the table. Murphy hadn't prayed since that fateful night long ago. It didn't seem to do her much good. But in this moment, reduced to such a state as they were, she couldn't see any harm it could do her. So she held Maggie and Sasha's hands tightly within her own, let her eyes flutter shut, and lowered her head.
"For this new morning, with its light, for rest and shelter of the night, for health and food, for love and friends, for everything that goodness sends. Amen," Maggie spoke softly.
"Amen," Enid repeated.
"Amen," Sasha seconded.
"... Amen," Murphy whispered, the word tumbling from her lips like a desperate plea.
___
When Dwight put Daryl back in the cell after the day's tumultuous events, he held out yet another serving of dog food and bread before his face. Daryl kept his eyes away from the man in defiance, so Dwight simply tossed the food on the filthy ground beside him. The light streamed in from the hallway to the dark closet, juxtaposing the traditional sides of good and evil. Dwight leaned against the doorframe, thinking carefully before choosing his next words.
"Eat," he insisted shortly.
Daryl didn't budge.
Dwight simply shook his head in disbelief, "You got your friend killed. I got Tina killed. And don't pretend like you don't know the score."
Daryl felt his blood boil and reached toward the bread... only to throw it across Dwight's face. Dwight turned his head and tried desperately to compose himself, controlling his anger. The two were both similar and different in so many ways. Instead of doing something he might regret, Dwight crouched beside Daryl with malice in his eyes.
"You should be dead," he hissed. "But Negan's taken a shine to you. You're lucky. Don't forget."
Daryl kept his eyes trained before him. Dwight pulled something out of his pocket and taped it onto the wall beside him.
"Bon appetit."
He stood from his crouched position and remained in the doorway for a moment, as if contemplating something. He reached into his vest and pulled out yet another paper-like object, only to throw it on the concrete before his feet.
"Just remember what you still have to lose."
With that, Dwight left the small room, took one last look over his shoulder, and closed the door behind him. When the lock clicked shut and darkness enveloped him once more, Daryl's breathing became labored. A sliver of light still emanated from the cracks between the door and frame, but what Dwight tossed in the cell was still shrouded in darkness. Did he dare to look?
Daryl first peeled what Dwight had taped off the wall and dropped it onto the floor beside him. It had fallen upside down. Deep down, he knew what the polaroid was of. He'd seen what the Saviors hung in their compounds... what motivated them to continue their acts of carnage. His hand shook as it reached for the polaroid once more. His fingers brushed against the wax finish, and it felt like flames against his calloused skin. He turned over the dreadful picture, and what Daryl then saw would forever be engrained in his memories.
It was Glenn... his mutilated body spread into the dirt. Blood and every matter imaginable could be seen in the photograph. The detail of Negan's doing was incredible. Daryl felt his heart shatter even more. The unbearable pain in his heart had spread to every corner of his chest, down to the tips of his fingers. It was worse than the bullet in his shoulder. It was worse than the scars on his back. This pain was unparalleled to anything he had ever felt before, and it would never go away. He had killed Glenn. Glenn was gone because of him. How could he ever forgive himself?
Tears welled in his gray eyes. Daryl rested his head on the stone wall behind him as his strength waned. He remembered that Dwight had thrown yet another picture in the closet, and fearfully felt around for it. His fingers brushed against the paper, and he recognized the feeling immediately. He raised the picture into the light, and Murphy graced his sight. Their picture, now bloodied and bent, was his again. But while their polaroid usually brought him joy, it could not mend the agony in his heart. If anything... it made it worse. Who was he if he could not protect his family?
In the silent space, music broke out and echoed off the walls.
"I was all right, for a while. I could smile for a while. But I saw you last night, you held my hand so tight, as you stopped to say hello. Oh, you wished me well. You couldn't tell... that I'd been crying over you. Crying over you. When you said 'so long,' left me standing all alone... alone and crying."
Daryl's shoulders slumped forward, and he let his silent sobs wrack his body. The torment left his body in waves of cries. He missed all of them. He missed them all so much. But what was worse— could he live with himself if he got out of this godforsaken place?
After hours of self-deception and deprecating thoughts, Daryl had emptied the contents of his stomach and huddled on the cold ground, a desperate attempt to find what comfort he could. His fingers were wrapped around the picture of his lover. Dwight opened the door later that day and found Daryl in this state. A numb mixture of satisfaction and pity formed in his stomach, but he repressed these feelings. Instead, he pulled Daryl off of the ground and walked him through the Sanctuary halls once more. Soon enough, they arrived at Negan's doorstep.
Negan sat comfortably in his chair and chuckled as the two entered his quarters.
"Jesus! You look awful. Don't you worry. We'll have Carson fix you all up, although I'm sure you'd prefer the hands of your smokin' hot doctor girlfriend, wouldn't you? Too bad she ain't here. You thirsty?"
Daryl clenched his jaw in subdued fury, but took the glass of water without question.
"D, get him a straw. What's wrong with you?"
Dwight obeyed without question, traveling to the cabinets behind them to look for a straw.
"See that guy? He hustles. I like hustle. But believe it or not, things weren't always cool between us. See, D here... he worked for points. Him and his super hot wife and her super hot sister. But, see, sis— she needed meds. And that shit is hard to scavenge, so it cost more. Sis fell behind on points, so I asked her to marry me. Told her I would take care of her in sickness and in health— blah, blah, blah— because I am a stand-up guy! She tells me that she's gonna think about it. Next thing you know, I'm dealing with an orange situation. Dwighty boy, here, stole all the medication and took off with his super hot wife and my super hot maybe soon-to-be fiancée!"
Negan tapped Lucille on the hard ground below him, making Dwight flinch.
"So I had to send my guys after him. Because I can't let something like that stand. There... are... rules," he emphasized, waving Lucille before him with every word. Daryl's eyes honed in on the weapon. "It cost me an arm and a leg going after him. And you know what? Dwighty boy? He still got away. But here's the thing! D— he saw the light! He manned up. He came back. He asked for my forgiveness. I like that. He made me take notice. But Lucille... well, you know how she is. She is a stickler for the rules. So, Dwight... he begged me not to kill Sherry, which I thought was kind of cute, so I was just gonna kill him. But then Sherry says that she will marry me if I let Dwight live. Which, if you think about it, that's a pretty screwed up deal 'cause I was gonna marry her sister until she wound up dead, but... Sherry is super hot!
"Anyways, it was a start! But it wasn't enough. So Dwight— he got the iron. And then I married his super hot wife... ex-wife. And then after all that, he still got on board. And now look at him! Pow! One of my top guys. And we are totally cool. The point being, I think you can be that guy. I think you are ready to be that guy. You look around here. This?"
He gestured around the room with his bat in hand. Daryl watched and listened carefully, his hunter's eyes flickering around the space.
"Well... it can all be yours. All you gotta do is answer one simple question," Negan paused for effect and held his hands out to his side as if it was the most obvious of questions. "... Who are you?"
Daryl didn't answer. He didn't move. The silence in the room was palpable.
Negan chuckled, "What, the cat got your tongue? You're just overwhelmed by the awesomeness of this? I'm gonna ask you one more time."
He stalked forward and held Lucille between them. His brows furrowed and his face twitched in a terrifying form of anger bubbling from beneath the surface of his skin. Daryl was a puzzle he couldn't crack. His defiance was the one thing Negan couldn't tame. And it made him furious.
"Who are you?" he asked lowly.
Dwight held his breath.
Daryl's eyes began to move upward, but he kept them locked on the carpet for a moment longer. While he didn't think he was worthy of their love any longer, he thought about his family. He thought about Murphy. What would she have him do? While submitting might save him from physical pain, what did that mean to him? It meant that he was giving up. It meant that he wasn't going back. So he lifted his gaze from the ground and locked eyes with Negan.
"Daryl."
Dwight's head shot up and he stepped toward Daryl in desperate frustration, "Oh, this is the only—!"
"Hey! Shh, shh, shh," Negan exclaimed, and his lips morphed into an unsettling smile. "It's cool, D. He made his choice. Ain't my problem if he made a dumbass choice."
His brown eyes bored into Daryl's for a moment too long, and Dwight quickly took a fistful of Daryl's shirt and pulled him back into the hall. He frantically pushed him down the corridors. When they arrived back to Daryl's cell, he shoved him against the stone wall. His frustration stemmed from the uncanny similarities the two men had, and the positions they once were in. Dwight had submitted to Negan's conditions, but Daryl... he was strong. A part of Dwight envied him.
"You're gonna wind up in that room or hangin' on the fence!" he screamed.
Daryl stared straight ahead, and Dwight turned to leave the small cell before his anger got the best of him. Just as he began to close the door, Daryl spoke up.
"I get why you did it. Why you took it. You were thinkin' about someone else. I am, too. She ain't here, but I'm gettin' back to her. Can't do that if I'm tied down like you."
___
The sun was beginning to set over Hilltop. Sasha, Maggie, and Enid had walked over to Jesus' trailer to plan for the coming days, but Murphy stayed behind to her lonely thoughts. Something wasn't right. She felt a deep disturbance in her bones, as if the universe was trying to tell her something important. All this talk about grief was necessary to heal after such trauma, but it wasn't sitting well. A feeling of anxiety washed over her. She was wasting time. Glenn and Abraham were gone, and they weren't coming back. But Daryl... he was still out there. He could still be alive. She couldn't simply sit back and hope the best for him.
She had to go.
Murphy quickly pushed the dining table seat out from under her and rushed toward the trailer closet. She pulled out a bag and stuffed a blanket inside, along with some food and a bottle of water. She pulled on her jacket and strapped her knife around her waist... checking her handgun for bullets. She would first go to Alexandria. She had to see Rick and Michonne and ask if they would be willing to help. Then... she would go to Negan.
Just as she was leaving to exit the trailer, the door opened and revealed Maggie, Sasha, and Enid.
Maggie looked at her with furrowed brows, "Where are you going?"
Murphy sighed but pulled her bag over her shoulders anyway, "I'm heading back to Alexandria."
"You need some more rest," Enid insisted.
"It's getting late. At least stay the night and leave tomorrow morning," Sasha reasoned.
Murphy shook her head, "No, I have to go now. Please."
"Murph..." Maggie breathed, stepping forward.
"Please," Murphy whispered, tears building along her lower lids. "I'll be back soon. I just— I need to find him."
Maggie stared deep into her green eyes and felt the despair. She felt the exact same way when the herd was just outside Alexandria's walls. She felt the drive to leave and find Glenn... wherever he was. The not knowing if he was alive or dead killed her. So she nodded, and pulled Murphy into her arms. She cupped her hands around the blonde's shoulders, and rubbed her clothed skin tenderly. This was what she had to do. Murphy pulled away with a tight-lipped smile, and gave both Sasha and Enid affectionate hugs as well.
"Is, uh... is Jesus still in his trailer? I'd like to say bye," Murphy sniffed.
Sasha shook her head, "He just left on a run. We'll tell him everything."
Murphy nodded and set her hand on the door handle. She sent the group one last smile of thanks before leaving the homey building and making her way down the steps. She walked through the bustling community and looked around, her eyes dancing across the children and the elderly. It was a peaceful little place, and she knew she would soon be returning. It just wasn't the right place for her now. As she approached the gate, Kal, an honorable member of the Hilltop, gave her a questioning look.
"You heading out now?"
"Yeah, I'm going back to Alexandria. If you could open the gate that'd be great," Murphy replied, hiking her bag further up her shoulders.
"Sure thing..." Kal trailed, gesturing for his men to open the gate. "Do you want anyone to go with you? Alexandria's a day away. You won't get there before dark."
"I'll be fine," Murphy assured. "Thanks, though. I'll see you soon."
With that, Murphy walked out of Hilltop's gates and into the world of the dead once more. The wooden doors slammed shut behind her, and Murphy was drawn back to the days before she met Abraham, Rosita, and Eugene... the days when she lived on her own in the wilderness. Oh, how times had changed. She had a wealth of people she cared about— people who cared about her. And no matter what they went through together, they were still worth fighting for. So Murphy quickened her pace and set her hand over the flannel pocket where Daryl's picture rested.
She had more than enough to fight for.
AUTHOR'S NOTE— ahhh i'm back! so sorry for the 4-month-long hiatus. school's been kicking my ass, and the only reason i was able to publish this chapter is because it's thanksgiving break :( but i hope it was worth the wait! this chapter was insanely hard to write because i had no inspiration. i felt like it was a lot of the same thing over and over. a couple months ago, it seemed like my story wasn't getting anywhere and my writing wasn't improving. we're also getting to a part of the show that i consider to be one of my least favorites, so i've just been battling an extreme bout of writer's block. but I DID IT AND WE'RE GOING TO GET THROUGH THIS TOGETHER BECAUSE MURPH AND DARYL DESERVE IT. anyway, thank you all for putting up with me. i love you guys, and can't tell you how much i appreciate your support! <3